


The Carter-Weir Proposition (Or How Wendy Watson Totally Sold Out to the Man-er, Woman)

by Medie



Category: Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1, The Middleman (TV)
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Women Being Awesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-30
Updated: 2010-11-30
Packaged: 2017-10-13 11:31:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/136882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medie/pseuds/Medie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You guys work for a top secret government program headquartered out of Cheyenne Mountain--without the authorization of the Canadian government, total violation of a bunch of agreements right there, by the way--that saves the world by fighting aliens with designs on intergalactic domination and MAC Cosmetics?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Carter-Weir Proposition (Or How Wendy Watson Totally Sold Out to the Man-er, Woman)

**Author's Note:**

> A while back I had that [25 Characters](http://medie.dreamwidth.org/1743505.html) Meme. [](http://bessemerprocess.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**bessemerprocess**](http://bessemerprocess.dreamwidth.org/)'s 3 numbers worked out to be Sam Carter (of SG1), Elizabeth Weir (of SGA) and Wendy Watson (of the Middleman) and, yeah, this one's kind of cracked out in its awesome; also, hell yeah the chicks are in charge. (And, people? the story title? _too long for the subject line_. Well, too long if I wanted to include fandom info and such. The Middleman just keeps on inspiring ridiculously long titles *g*)

"So, let me get this straight," Wendy looked from one woman to the other, totally ignoring the squirming supposedly-dead-but-not-really-selling-the-part whatsit at her feet (okay, _underneath_ her feet, true, but how else was she supposed to stop it from squirming? Spill her Starbucks-totally sorry, Lace-on it?) because, yeah, _squirming_. "You guys work for a top secret government program headquartered out of Cheyenne Mountain--without the authorization of the Canadian government, total violation of a bunch of agreements right there, by the way--that saves the world by fighting aliens with designs on intergalactic domination and MAC Cosmetics?"

"That about covers it, yeah." The tall blonde nodded.

Wendy looked at the squishy whatsit and considered it. "That is so totally cool. Are there zombies?"

"Not usually," Blonde replied, "but I wouldn't rule it out."

The other one, brunette with a _killer_ suit and even better heels, nodded and sighed. "And I have told them about the treaty violations, but they just won't listen."

"Bureaucrats," Wendy said, annoyed. "Can't shoot them, but it's a violation of the Geneva Conventions to let them live." She stomped on the whatsit when it started sprouting tentacles. "So, job offer?"

"Absolutely," Blonde said. She waved a hand around them, indicating the sheer and utter carnage that had been Wendy's latest dead-end-but-hey-not-despicable-pay temp job. Carnage inflicted by said whatsit currently plotting cruel and unusual vengeance on Wendy's totally vintage and kickass boots. "The way that you handled this?"

"It shows a presence of mind and ability that is _wasted_ in temp work," Brunette agreed, nodding. "There will be an interview process and background check of course, but it's much easier than killing you."

Wendy grinned. "You say that _now_. Wait until you try vetting my roommate." Seriously. Somehow, she didn't think that Lacey was going to be down with the whole 'moving to Colorado' part of the gig, but who knew?

Maybe it would totally piss her mother—Dr. Barbara Thornfield MD PhD—and, hey, in Lacey-land that was _always_ a win.

"So, uh, do you guys have _names_? Or do I just go with cute, but ultimately a little cloying nicknames?"

"Colonel Samantha Carter," said Blond—er, Colonel Samantha Carter of the totally awesome, but secret agency that would, hopefully, soon be employing Wendy in a gainful fashion that involved saving the world, but providing ample time for art and shenanigans with Lacey in their new, totally illegal-impossibly-sized sublet or, maybe, their totally legal, but government-sponsored-and-guaranteed-to-annoy-Lacey-which-is-why-we-won't-tell her-about-that-part apartment.

Or, maybe, she'd just take up residence in some super top-secret company town somewhere and chat mysteriously with Lacey over

"Doctor Elizabeth Weir," Brun—yeah, she'd get the hang of that part sooner or later—Doctor Weir put in. "I take it this means you're in?"

"Absolutely," Wendy agreed. "Say, do you guys do dental?"


End file.
